


Double Hot Dogs

by skinandbones



Category: B: The Beginning (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, Julian is dragged into Quinn's time, Kamui most likely flirting with Quinn, M/M, Pre-Episode One, hot dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15131000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinandbones/pseuds/skinandbones
Summary: Before, Julian Crouse’s life is nothing but a series of unfortunate events, but when Quinn takes him in, he finds out his boss’ life is a lesson he won’t forget.And that is to stay away from Kamui and never have lunch with Quinn.





	Double Hot Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> Julian is shit but I couldn’t help but wonder how he and Quinn probably have the better chemistry than Kamu just from eps one only (not like Quinn and Kamui ever talked lol). Their relationship absolutely _headed right off the tracks_.
> 
> But now it’s like ‘okay, let's put them in an AU that takes place before BTB. Maybe… just maybe Julian works for Quinn some months longer’???
> 
> And you know… Giving appreciation to minor characters is suffering lmfao. Of course Julian had to be the victim.

Julian Crouse is a man without any ambition to wake from his slumber, including the lack of motivation to go out after realizing he has a set lunch date with his boss that was decided a week ago. His flip phone, a welcoming gift from Quinn, reminds him of said event with a beep, but he leaves it alone, lying on his bed and still not quite ready to move just yet.

He stares at the ceiling, counting the number of water stains seemingly increasing every month before grumbling over the fact about preferring to be a sack of potatoes on a Saturday. There’s always an activity planned on his calendar that’s not his own. Usually he’s dragged around Cremona like he’s some dog and he can’t complain about it to anyone.

The pillow begs him to sleep an hour more, but Julian can’t succumb. Instead he presses his face and yells into it, frustrated how he doesn’t have the balls to decline the invitation especially when Quinn wants him there. Quinn finds it most exciting to have time for himself rather than sticking around with the rest of the group.

It’s unbearable, understand? Quinn would say. Missions here and there, not enough of a break to do whatever he wanted, and apparently bringing Julian along would be the best of ideas. As if he’s the idealistic choice of a partner to hang out with. Whatever the reasons behind it, Julian doesn’t want to find out. The last time he tries ditching Quinn, he was thrown and locked up in a coffin for three days.

Never again.

An incoming text message grabs Julian’s attention. Julian lazily grabs for his phone on the table next to the bed and ends up dropping it after a small slip between his fingers. It lands on the ground with a thump.

“Fuck.”

He uses much of his morning energy leaning over the edge, his thin arm reaching for his cell until he picks it up. With several taps on his number pad, he reads Quinn’s message.

**Wear something nice.**

What? Julian stares. No way Quinn expects him to wear a fancy suit. Nothing from his personal belongings screams “nice”.

But if Quinn wants something decent, then he knows the perfect outfit he’ll appreciate. Quinn didn’t mention the specifics, so it’s something Julian can work to his favor.

 

-

 

“You are late.”

“What?” Julian slouches as he walks over, hands already stuffed in his pocket and one fiddling with a stack of gum. “You said to wear something nice!”

“That was two hours ago.” Quinn shoots Julian an amusing look, a small puff of air slips from his mouth as he makes a silent analytical study. “I suppose this is acceptable.”

The t-shirt Julian wears screams an alarming, yellow highlighter with pineapple print scattered all over as if he’s on a summer vacation in the middle of fall. And it’s as nice as Julian can find in his closet that’s considered clean and doesn’t smell like takeout. He doesn’t put much thought into the way he dresses, a quick slap on clothes and shoes like it’s the perfect getaway.

The top pairs decent enough with his beige cargo pants and sandals, the entire look a complete opposite from Quinn who wears a black turtleneck with a tight set of bottoms showing off his skinny legs. The word “bumblebee” comes to mind, and Julian dies inside.

“Whatever,” Julian looks away. “Well I’m here now. Where we heading?”

Quinn grins. “First on the agenda, we’ll be making a quick stop somewhere before lunch.”

“Where?” Julian follows Quinn as they make their way out of the warehouse.

“You’ll see,” Quinn answers lightly.

Julian ganders at the other reggies in the area, but they pay no attention to them leaving. He stops in his tracks at the sudden chill running down his back as if icy daggers dig right into his spine. Out of fear, Julian spares a glance around the place but all he hears are the sounds of trucks moving carts in and out. None of the workers give him a shred of acknowledgement, too.

“Little duckling,” Quinn calls out. “We don’t have all day.”

Giving one final look, the threat disappears and Julian hurries back to Quinn’s side.

 

-

 

It’s an hour later, and Julian grows impatient. He’s already scolding himself for forgetting to eat breakfast, his stomach groans with its unruly noises the longer he keeps thinking about food, and he prays Quinn doesn’t hear or say anything about it.

“I thought this was going to be quick.” Julian says, tapping his foot absentmindedly and hanging around in one of Cremona’s famous clothing stores. The room has a sharp mahogany flavor to it with a twist of the gold lighting surrounding them, the air screams with heavy wads of money but all Julian sees are the treacherous ties neatly stacked in front of him.

It’s boring. Julian watches Quinn lifts a red wine tie and another of a dark cobalt, both possibly matching Quinn’s face paint while Julian stands there sticking out like an annoying pimple. He can’t ignore the stares coming from the employees and fires them the stink eye instead, teaching them a lesson if they dare mess with him.

“Patience, Julian. Take a seat.”

“What patience? I have plenty.” Julian lounges on the couch, watching Quinn’s indecisiveness in the mirror as he picks and wears each tie he discovers. Whites, purples, blacks, many colors enter his sights before Quinn looks at him with a thought in mind.

“What?” Julian grunts.

“Why don’t you pick something out? I doubt we’ll be back here again.”

“No thanks,” Julian answers with haste.

“You sound certain.”

“Because I am.”

Quinn’s rare smile appears. “Maybe this one fits you.” A blast of orange lands on Julian’s face and piles into his palms.

“The hell?!” Quinn expects him to wear this?

Julian picks up the necktie like it’s a disease, spotting grid lines and parabolas entertaining his eyes, it’s a horrific design that reminds him of some kid drawing with crayons. He glares at Quinn, hoping it’s a joke, but Quinn shrugs without an answer to Julian’s sudden predicament. Undoubtedly, Julian knows Quinn must be laughing deep inside because orange is not his color.

“Why don’t we buy you a wallet, too? You like crocodile?”

Julian raises a brow, he doesn’t need Quinn to shop for him. No way. He doesn’t need anything from this hellhole, the only comfort he’ll find right now if he escapes this shop in one piece.

“No…”

Without a reply to Julian’s discomfort, Quinn calls for one of the associates to help him pick one out. Obviously, nothing Julian says can stop Quinn from anything, so he lets it happen. If he hangs around any longer, they’ll never leave the store. Without any desires for discussion, he heads out towards his freedom. The unpleasant tie is returned to its rightful place, and Julian embraces the need for fresh air as he exits out.

There is nothing that catches Julian’s eyes except the seagulls cawing in the air with their obnoxious sounds. Farther, he sees the green hills and forest encompassing them, a place for people to hike or camp up there. Several lakes are located there, as well, if one makes their way further north if they wanted to boat. Fishing is another popular sport up there, too, but he and his brothers mostly drink and screw around some years ago.

Julian finds a bench nearby and drops down, he checks the time on his cellphone. It’s nearing lunch hour but his body feels like a sac of garbage already. A tired exhale, Julian yawns and waits because he has nothing better to do.

On the other hand, he still wonders why he’s hanging around with Quinn. Not even that Minatsuki guy says anything about it, and apparently he’s some sort of a big shot, Quinn’s boss, really.

He guesses he has some use for Quinn but there’s not much detail about it yet.

These past months for Julian continues to be strange, and they’re supposed to be hunting for this black-winged king. But everyone seems to be on vacation mode nowadays.

Finally, Julian hears footsteps coming.

“Shall we go?” A small gift bag drops on Julian’s lap, startling him from his stupor. “How do you feel about sushi?”

Julian could see the glitter tissue paper inside and there’s that itch to shred it apart.

“Don’t tell me you actually bought it?!” He rummages through the contents.

“Both the wallet and tie. You don’t have to thank me, I felt like spending money today—Oh don’t give me that look, it’s an inconsequential amount.”

“I’m not talking about the money.” Julian growls, his fingers scrunching the plastic together.

“How wonderful.” Quinn claps. “Sushi?”

“No!”

“No? Then do you have a preference? We’ll go wherever you like.”

They take a walk. It’s a while, after much of Julian’s picky nature and Quinn’s unending list of foods to try, they eventually decide on hot dogs from a local food truck. A simple choice but when he hears Quinn never having one before, he nearly trips and stares in abhor.

It’s an insult! The level of respect for Quinn drops down a level.

“Screw the fish, we’re hot dogging and you’ll like it. I know a place we can go, so follow… or not.”

“Hot dogging?” Quinn smirks. “What a funny word. Lead the way.”

 

-

 

“Stop staring like it’s going to kill you. One bite, just one bite.”

“I don’t know how you can consume all this,” Quinn admits, holding his hot dog up. It’s the exact one Julian orders that includes fries, onion rings, and mozzarella sticks on top with an extra topping of beef chili.

“What? Worried your paint is gonna smear?” Julian throws back but quickly zips his lips when the air around him goes stale. “Uh. How about a fork and knife?”

“Funny but no. I’m quite capable actually.”

“With your gloves on?”

“Will this be a problem for you?”

Julian clicks his tongue. It’s a major problem when this entails eating with your fingers.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

Ending the chit chat, he bites into his sandwich and the flavors hits every taste bud, taking him on a crusade to the heavens. The heat from the beans and meat is wonderful and the crunch of the onion rings mixing with the melted cheese together, it adds an extra charm but the crisp of the fries and the grilled hot dog itself, he arrives at the doors of Nirvana.

Julian is so engrossed with his food, he forgot to ask Quinn how he’s doing. He takes a glance and notices Quinn practically makes small bites like a chipmunk while he’s already halfway towards finishing his own.

It’s out of his league, isn’t it? Julian wonders.

“You know if you keep staring, you’ll end up with a sword in your mouth one day.”

Julian sits there in shock. “The fuck, man?”

“That was a joke,” Quinn answers. But it doesn’t make Julian feel any better.

“Yeah. Okay, if you say so.”

“Yo!” A voice yells nearby. “Quinn, baby!”

Quinn raises his head, eyes widening at the newcomer. “Great. Here comes the walking nightmare. Do make yourself look busy.”

“What?” Julian spots the familiar face, he has seen him before, well, the black and white jacket is almost memorable but the makeup is worth noting. He tears his gaze away and stares at the one remaining onion ring left on his tray, he’ll play pretend. No problem.

“Kamui.” Quinn sets his food down. “Nice of you to join us.”

“Whatcha doing?” Kamui slips next to Quinn’s side, a little hip bump. “Eating? That looks really good.”

“How observant. You hit the jackpot.” Quinn slides the paper container towards Kamui. “Have some.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Kamui looks at the sandwich from all angles. “The fuck are these baby bites? Afraid you’ll ruin your paint?”

Julian snorts. A moment of silence drops. Immediately, Julian feels the dread and looks up, noticing this “Kamui” guy taking an interest in him, Quinn giving him the worst of stares and his stomach takes a flip upside down. So much for playing pretend.

“Well well well, someone thinks I’m funny. Isn’t that grand? What’s your name? I’ve seen you spending time with this handsome poodle here.” Kamui takes a bite of Quinn’s lunch, all the chewing and muffling at the sudden realization at what he’s eaten, he looks at Quinn.

“Uuush reeleh gud!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? You are deft, deft, completely deft.” Quinn hits Kamui’s arm. “And eat with your mouth closed, you disgusting pig!”

Kamui swallows. “Bite me, mother.” He turns his attention to Julian again, ignoring Quinn’s shove. “Well?”

“It’s… J-Julian, sir.”

Kamui cackles. “You hear that? He called me ‘sir’! I don’t look that old, do I?”

“You’re old.”

“Fuck off. I like him,” Kamui admits, smiling. “At least he calls me properly unlike you.”

“Your ugly face is scaring him,” Quinn huffs. “Why are you here again?”

“I came to find you, of course. You weren’t in your room today.”

“Because I had plans.”

“You didn’t invite me?” Kamui frowns. “That’s a low blow.”

“That’s the point. You weren’t invited.”

“You’re hurting my feelings.”

“Not worth apologizing for.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re the sweetest of cherries?”

Quinn and Kamui keep going at it. It must be common for them to talk to each other like this, maybe it’s better this way. He doesn’t have to be included, much of the conversation he blanks out but he’s glad Kamui isn’t talking to him anymore. Already the creepy vibes emanate from Kamui make him super nervous. Julian returns to his hot dog and calls it a day.

“By the way, you know I heard this song lately. I think you might know of it, you know the ‘Leck mich im Arsch’ music?”

Julian darts his eyes to the side.

Already, Quinn has his suspicions. “Of course. It’s a piece by Mozart, entertaining really.”

Julian lowers his face, staring at the red speck of oil.

“Bingo. So then I realized… actually I thought about this over and over again, just so you know, being completely honest here, I would like you to _leck mich im arsch_.”

Julian stills. Well this is awkward.

“Are you… Hell, don’t be fucking gross,” Quinn pushes Kamui right off the seat. “As if you deserve it.”

But Kamui laughs it off, butt flat on the ground. “Can’t help it when my thoughts are rolling with your ton—”

“No one needs to hear your nasty kink!”

“Hey, he probably doesn’t understand it.” Kamui stands up, wiping the dirt off his pants and makes his way around the table, hovering over Julian and leans right into his face. “Do you?”

As if Julian couldn’t look away, he swallows the lump in his throat instead, the sudden need for air becomes suffocating and tight, both of them fixated on each other but the dance put on pause. The absolute patience on Kamui’s face refuses to die, and Julian doesn’t have the confidence to tell him the truth. He knows very well what it means, he’s not an idiot. Unfortunately, he had his fair share of listening to Mozart when growing up. It was torture.

“I-I never heard of it.” Julian sweats. “I swear.”

“You’re not a very good liar. You’re practically shitting in your pants right now. But it’s okay, I’ll make it all better.” Kamui pats Julian’s head and strokes, the unexpected glee is terrifying until the sudden grip snatches Julian out his daze. Kamui drags Julian out of his seat while panicking hands struggle to remove the rough treatment off of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Admit it and we’ll go on our merry ways. If not, then your face will meet the pavement very soon. Cement or tar, your choice.”

Shaking his head, Julian begs with each “please” coming out of his mouth, but Kamui’s hold tightens as a result. Julian’s whimpers goes unheard, his scalp scalding in pain as if it’s about to rip off and he’s not ready to deal with the aftermath, imagining the blood and lack of skin.

“Begging won’t help you now,” Kamui shakes him.

“Enough Kamui. You’re making a scene.” Quinn looks around and back at him. “The last thing we need is attention and another complaint from the boss. Let him go.”

Kamui tilts his head, examining Julian. “I don’t like him.”

“No one says you have to. Drop him and finish this.” The sandwich slides closer to him over the table.

“Why did you pick this idiot? He’s useless, practically shit underneath your boots. He can’t even fight back.”

“Are you jealous that I’m giving him more attention than you?”

“Maybe I am! Let’s call it that. What does he have that I don’t?”

“We’ll talk about this later.” Quinn takes a deep breath. “Release him.”

“Fine fine,” Kamui scoffs and lets Julian go, pushing the frightened man back in his seat with one swift hoist and a dump. “You owe me an explanation later.”

“Great.” Quinn grabs a napkin and wipes the crumbs off his gloves.

Finally an air of relief, Julian calms down and rubs the sore area on his head, blessed to find his hair still intact. “Hey, Quinn, uh, so… you guys are dating or what?”

Quinn stops. Julian catches the surprise on Quinn’s face over his recovery, but he’s, too, also experiencing his own set of shock.

“How revolting.”

“Of course we are!”

The two reggies answer in sync but they look at each other; Kamui’s face drops as if someone tosses his guacamole on the sidewalk while Quinn is mostly a blender of disgust.

And this is where Julian should’ve kept his mouth shut because the arguing begins again.

Enough is enough.

Julian grabs his lunch and sneaks away towards an empty bench, finding peace while his boss and Kamui throws insults at each other. They’re not dating, they’re a married couple in their mid-life crisis, for sure, but one thing for certain, he knows staying away from them when they are together is the best option.

“Aw look, you scared poor Ju-Ju away.” Kamui waves at Julian. “Come back, we’re not going to hurt you!”

“You just did that a minute ago. You scare everyone you meet.”

“Doesn’t it sound marvelous? I know for sure, I haven’t scared you off.” Kamui’s voice a teasing seduction. “Now that’s what I call a victory and you’re my spoil, princess.”

“God, don’t you ever shut up?”

“Never. You love it.”

Today is a lesson learned.

Julian is never having lunch with Quinn again but he’s keeping the gifts, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> @[ofskinandbones](http://www.ofskinandbones.tumblr.com).
> 
> My twitter friend told me about the Mozart piece and I got inspired to use it in this fic. Gosh.


End file.
